


Shackled In My Embrace

by priscilacross



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Drama, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Jealous Jim, Jealousy, M/M, Rating will keep going up, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-03-30
Packaged: 2019-03-18 22:28:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13691127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/priscilacross/pseuds/priscilacross
Summary: Jim gets captured by dad of the year Oswald Cobblepot and has to spend some time at the Cobblepot Manor against his will.AU where Ivy doesn't grow exponentially. Jim and Oswald only know each other by reputation, until Oswald kidnaps him because he was obstructing his plans. And Ed works at Gotham Museum, he's a good guy.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Ivy is a couple years older than Martin in this.
> 
> Inspired by Miike Snow's video of song _Genghis Khan_ , which if you haven't seen, I highly recommend you do ;) **I'm trying to make this the least bit Stockholm Syndrome-y as possible, so bear with me.**  
>  Title taken from Disclosure ft. Sam Smith- _Latch_
> 
> I really wanted to get this done on Valentine's day, but late is better than never amiright? 
> 
> Hope you'll like this little, mostly self-indulgent fic :)

During the day, Martin and Ivy tend to the gardens, learn every other subject with their private instructor, and practice their musical instruments, amongst other things. Meanwhile, Oswald disappears to his underground ‘office’. Martin and Ivy aren’t allowed downstairs, but they have their theories about what goes down in such quarters. They are convinced Oswald is a first class criminal, a villainous lord or final boss of sorts. From time to time they would hear the screams of grown men, pleading mercy. However, they never see anyone come inside the house. There’s the distinct sound of guns being fired, bones being crushed, and furniture being smashed every so often. At the end of the day, none of that really matters because Oswald makes killer blueberry pancakes with a fantastic homemade whipped cream.

After a long day of listening to Professor Michaelis excitedly talk about ancient history for even just twenty minutes, the light conversations they hold with their adoptive father are a blessing. They love their dad. Oswald is everything they could’ve asked for, and more. He coddles them, but not in annoying way. He would never allow his children to grow impudent brats. No, Oswald spoils them, but he also draws the line. They know better than to cross it. Not because they fear retribution, but because they would never do anything to displease the man that continues to show them such pure and genuine love and affection. 

-

He knows the risks of the job. Harvey had stressed them many times before, but he never imagined this would happen, until it did. He can’t help but sigh in defeat as he lets his shackled hands fall to his sides. 

“What are you going to do, kill me? The police will be looking for me,” he says trying to sound calm, not like he’d been struggling with his chains for the last ten minutes. 

Oswald smiles politely, “But you took a two weeks holiday detective, which leaves plenty of time for some fun, don’t you think?” 

“What are you going to do when the two weeks are up?” 

“Accidents happen all the time. You have no idea how easy it is to make someone’s death seem like bad luck,” he chuckled.

“Your kids saw me come in, they will talk,” Jim says with confidence in the kids’ honest nature. Surely they hadn’t spent enough time with this crook to be corrupt already.

“The kids will do nothing of the sort. To them, you’re just a guest, detective Gordon. You’ll join us for breakfast in the mornings, tea and lunch in the afternoon, and dinner at 6 o’clock. At least until I figure out exactly what to do with you.” Jim looked around the small room, the chair he is currently tied to being the only furnite there. “Oh, don’t worry, detective. You’ll be transferred to a different room. I’m not heartless, you know? I would never allow a guest to be uncomfortable in the Cobblepot Manor. ”

That is what Oswald said, yet Jim stands in a room rating only a star higher than a holding cell. The brute who escorted him gave him a duffel bag with toiletries and clothes, and he went on his way. Great, he’s going to die, and he can’t even do it with dignity. 

-

The kids are excited to meet their guest. They had merely waved at him yesterday, but Oswald had promised, the man, Jim, would join them for breakfast. Their dad stood by the stove, pan handle in hand as he slid a perfect pancake into the growing stack. Ivy and Martin help get the table ready. Arranging the cutlery and the fine china Oswald insists they have breakfast on. They put out four glasses this time, Ivy fills them up with milk. 

“Could you please set a mug for our guest, dear? Mr. Gordon is fond of coffee,” Oswald says as he starts brewing a fresh pot, just for Jim. 

Just as Ivy sets down the mug, Jim walks into the kitchen, the guard had escorted him all the way here. Oswald smiles at the sight of him, glad the detective was cooperating and dressing up for the occasion. 

“Good morning, Mr. Gordon!” Ivy greets. 

Martin smiles and writes down a ‘good morning!!!’ on his notepad. 

Although Jim seems taken aback by the bizarre situation he finds himself in, it only takes him a moment to school his features. For the sake of the children, of course. The first thing he would do if he gets out of here alive is find these kids a proper home, with someone that cares for them. 

“Good morning, we weren’t introduced. I’m Jim, and you guys are…?” 

“I’m Ivy, this is Martin, and that’s our dad, Oswald.” 

Jim raises an eyebrow at the girl and glances at Oswald, nodding slowly, “Right… and you guys… you,” he couldn’t possibly address the issue with Oswald here. The kids will never admit to abuse or neglect with the perpetrator present. “You set the table?” He asks taking a seat, the kids on either side of him on the square table. “That’s an impressive job you did.”

“Thank you, Mr. Gordon. Dad taught us how,” she says with a bright smile. “Oh, Mr. Gordon, you’re going to love daddy’s pancakes! He positively makes the best pancakes in Gotham!” Martin nods vigorously, fully supporting Ivy’s comment. Ivy encourages Jim to lean down so she can whisper in his ear, “the secret is, he put sugary blueberries in them and-”

“Now now Ivy, you can’t reveal my secret recipe to Mr. Gordon. It wouldn’t be secret anymore, would it?” He asks smiling from behind the kitchen island as he slid the final pancake into the stack. 

He set the covered plate with pancakes on the center of the table. The finest maple syrup already on the table. He starts whipping the heavy cream and sets it on the table once fluffy. After pouring Jim some coffee, he joins them, taking a seat across from Jim. 

“I’ll say grace!” Ivy proclaims closing her eyes. “Dear Father, thank you for letting Mr. Gordon stay with us,” she says peeking at the guy and quickly squeezing her eyes closed again, “and thank you for these delicious pancakes we’re about to eat, amen.” 

“Amen,” Jim mumbles along as he watches the whole scene unfold, unable to believe his eyes. 

“Mr. Gordon, you’re supposed to close your eyes while you’re praying, for next time,” Ivy whispers to him.

“Just call me Jim,” he says smiling down at her and then at Martin.

Both Ivy and Martin seem surprised by this, they are quick to glance over at Oswald, as if asking for permission, Oswad nods with a smile. The kids turn to Jim smiling and nodding.

Jim takes three pancakes from the stack and whipped cream after Martin and pours an unhealthy amount of maple syrup over them. Martin watches with horror, not even he would put that much syrup on his pancakes. The detective takes his first bite and the room goes quiet, three expecting pairs of eyes glued to Jim’s face, waiting for judgement. Jim’s features turn into those of pure bliss, he is unable to keep a delighted moan from escaping him.

After swallowing, Jim controls his features again, “Yeah, those are good pancakes.”

All three Cobblepots let go of a breath they’ve been holding and smile. They continue to eat making small talk. 

‘How long are you staying with us?’ Martin asks after he’d eaten his first pancake. 

“I’m not sure,” Jim answers truthfully. If only he could get his hands on a phone, he could call Harvey and have Oswald arrested. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim spends more time with the Cobblepots and starts seeing things through Oswald's eyes.

Oswald Chesterfield Cobblepot aka The Penguin is said to be the largest fence in the city. Word on the street is no act of crime happens without his approval. His reputation gives him the respect of almost every citizen in Gotham, no one dares even think of crossing The Penguin, but those who do will soon enough find their worst nightmares come to life. So more than respected, he is feared. Ever since he heard about him, Jim wanted nothing more than to bring him down. Sure, crime rates in Gotham have been at a record low because of Penguin, but that’s only statistics. Gotham is one of the wealthiest and safest cities since said Penguin took over the underworld business. But to Jim, the problem is the unpunished crime. Not like he can do much about it now, not from behind these four walls.

His current situation is bad, but he never expected the criminal to have him ‘be a guest’. He’d read the file, he knew of all the contributions the former mayor had done to the orphanages in the city, and how he had adopted two children from said places. He’d imagined their living conditions to be different. He’d come here with the idea of saving the kids and this city, but from what he saw earlier, the kids didn’t need saving, and maybe neither did the city. Or maybe it’s all an act, the kids could have been brainwashed. Before he’s able to ponder on those thoughts, the latch on the door turns. Oswald walks in and stands across from Jim who sits on the modest single bed. 

“Good evening, Mr. Gordon. I hope your visit so far has been pleasant. Do you have any dietary restrictions? Olga is making Chicken Kiev with steamed broccoli on the side, it’s one of the children’s favorite,” he says, a smile spreading on his face as he remembers their rosy cheeks and smiling faces. 

Jim raises an eyebrow and narrows his eyes at the oddity of it all, “Uh, no, no dietary restrictions. Actually, I don’t like broccoli.” 

Oswald nods with a smile. “I’ll have Olga put an extra portion of broccoli on your plate,” he says matter of fact.

“Wha-No, I just said, I didn’t-”

“Nonsense! If I let you skip your greens, the kids will riot. We need to set an example, detective,” he says with a genuine smile. 

“Why are you doing this, Cobblepot?” he snarls standing up and almost towering over Oswald. 

“Vegetables are an essential part of a balan-”

“No! I mean this,” he motions around the room, “keep me here, why are you- what are you going to do to me?”

“I thought we went over this, Mr. Gordon,” 

“Stop that, just call me Jim, damn it,” he says exasperated, letting his weight drop on the bed as he sits, his elbows resting on his lap. “My father was Mr. Gordon,” he mutters to himself, but Oswald doesn’t miss the somber words. Jim bends down, burying his face on his hands. 

“Of course. Jim. What do you do for entertainment? I could have someone bring you some books if you’d like?” Oswald stares down at his hands, then at the wall. Since he hears no reply, he continues, “The kids and I will be playing chess… you, you’re welcome to, uh, join us, if, if you so desire,” still no response. “Ivy, she just got a new puzzle. I’m sure she’d appreciate your help…” he says expectant. 

Jim sighs and rubs his face before looking up at Oswald. “Sure,” he says with a fake smile that makes his eyes crinkle. 

Oswald and Martin sit at the coffee table arranging the pieces to play chess as Ivy dumps the pieces to her puzzle on the ground; the sound of one thousand puzzle pieces ecos in the silence of the living room. She began spreading the pieces out so they could see each one. Jim helped, noticing how much bigger and chubbier his fingers looked compared to Ivy’s. 

“Finish putting all the pieces in place while I go and put some music,” Oswald instructs Martin. 

The boy obediently does as told and Oswald puts a vinyl disk on the player, upbeat happy music starts playing. 

When Oswald comes back, Martin has finished setting the chess board, Ivy and Jim are scanning and pulling apart the corner pieces, the box with the picture of a botany illustration, the finished product rests in plain view as their guide.

Jim swears to himself that he won’t enjoy this. That maybe the kids are in on this too, maybe Oswald has trained them to be deceivingly amicable. Because they are too polite and too nice and too witty for their own good, and they make him laugh and even Oswald makes him laugh. But Jim even makes sure to smile after eating that disgusting broccoli which somehow wasn’t as mushy and gross as his preconceived idea of what it would taste like. 

He doesn’t forget that soon enough he has to go back to his cell; he can’t even call that a room. So when Ivy asks him if they can continue forming the puzzle after dinner, he looks at Oswald for permission. He doesn’t even know if he’s asking for permission to stay or for permission for Ivy to stay up later than she’s allowed.

“You can continue tomorrow. It’s time to get ready for bed,” Oswald says to Ivy with a tender smile. 

The kids leave only a little disappointed they can’t continue their evening activities with Jim. Oswald moves back to the living room, Jim follows behind.

“Sit down, James. Would you like something to drink? Perhaps a cup of coffee or tea?” Oswald walks to the cellaret across the couch. “Or would you like something stronger?”

Jim hesitates for a second, “Do you have scotch? Or a whisky of sorts?” 

“Of course,” the other replies as he pours two glasses of quality scotch. His own over ice, and Jim’s neat. He has a feeling Jim is the kind of serious manly man who prefers his scotch neat, he smirks at the thought. 

“Thanks,” Jim says simply as Oswald hands him the drink. Oswald sits on the couch, keeping a nice distance between them as Jim takes a sip and delights in the strong flavor. “This is good,” he tries not to sound too awkward, but he’s clearly not achieving his goals. 

“I can add ice to it if you’d like,” the gangster offers, but Jim shakes his head. He smiles into his glass as he takes a drink.

“How long have the kids been with you?” 

The question doesn’t surprise him, he could see it in Jim’s eyes all evening. Oswald knows what he does isn’t necessarily correct, but if he doesn’t do it, someone else will, or worse, no one will. The things he does for the city, they must be done. He knew when he brought the kids into his home that even with all the dangers involved, he couldn’t stop. But he also couldn’t leave the kids in that place, not when they had made a connection like Oswald has never experienced before. 

“It’s been almost one year, however I’ve known them for over 2 years from my visits to the orphanage,” he answers smiling at the distant memory. “I never intended to bring them into my life, but I’m glad I did.”

Jim nods slowly, cautious, sipping, taking his time to respond, “They’re smart kids.”

“Indeed they are, and that’s not something I can attribute to myself or even professor Michaelis. They have an amazing intelligence, it was the first thing I noticed when I met them.” 

“Is that why you chose them?” Jim asks accusing. Is he planning to use them for his nefarious plans? 

Oswald laughs, “No, I didn’t  _ choose _ them, James. I gravitated towards them, I observed their interactions with the other kids. People are often cruel when you’re smart. They see you as a threat. I wanted to give them a better life than… than the one they could’ve had elsewhere. I wanted their talents to bear fruit, I intent to give them the best. But I didn’t choose them, they chose me. I wasn’t going to force kids in my life.”

“Right, can I have another drink?” 

Oswald looks to the entrance and one of the guards is already here to escort Jim back to his temporary dwelling. “I’m afraid it’s time to get ready for bed, detective. Today was good, we’ll see you again tomorrow,” he says with a smile. 

Jim is tired of seeing that smile. A smile so confident, so satisfied. He leaves his glass on the coffee table before he walks to the guard. 

“Good night, Jim.” 

Jim doesn’t bother replying, or even looking back. He knows he will meet that arrogant smile. So far he has seen two different smiles on the Penguin. One is always directed at him, the other is directed at the kids.

 

Two days went by and he was moved to a nicer room, a room worthy of a guest. After that, days go by faster than he would've expected. He enjoys spending time with Oswald and the kids more than he ever imagined, he actually never thought he would. He doesn't remember when the mobster stopped being ‘Penguin’ or ‘Cobblepot’ and started being Oswald. Or when he stopped being James or detective and started being Jim, just Jim. To both Oswald and the kids. He doesn't remember when the kids started giving him hugs in the mornings and how his morning never felt complete without them. He doesn't remember when sitting at the table to share food with them started being something he looked forwards to. 

Could it be he is being manipulated? He hasn't forgotten, even if his room isn't a cell anymore, he is still a prisoner. He still doesn't know what Oswald is planning for him, but they talk. Everyday without fault. What's surprising to Jim is Oswald's words make sense. Oswald's voice stopped being irritating. He is unsure of how he does it, but he makes everything sound so pragmatic. 

They sat at the couch sipping on some Irish coffee. When did he start sitting so close to Oswald? Their knees are touching, but neither mind. 

“Don't you think a lot goes unpunished in Gotham? In the world? Imagine for example, a rapist, if the women he has inflicted pain upon never come forward because of fear, will he ever get retribution? Not on this life. I make sure vermin like that understand their place. Likewise, Gotham is a frail lady, Jim. She needs to be protected from the people who try to rape her. I understand the GCPD is here to do that, but so far I haven't seen results. So many horrible things gone unpunished, criminals walking away because of a bribed jury. Tell me Jim, if it was anyone else cleaning this city, would you mind it? If it was someone better looking than myself, tall, and with a pleasant smile, would you mind it? Don't you think people have a preconceived idea when they look at someone like me?”

Jim’s eyebrows are almost touching, “It's not- Oswald, you're not- No, I understand you're trying to help the city, but you can't just take justice in your hands.” His hands form tight fists.

Oswald was right though. The system was broken, many innocent people went to prison, and many guilty walked free. 

“I'm only doing what's best for Gotham, Jim. You have to understand. I love this city, and I can't just stand back and watch it burn.” His hands gripped his own knees as he took a deep breath, tears threatened to spill. 

Jim reached over and placed his hand on top of Oswald's, “I know, Oswald. But you can't do this alone,” he whispered softly.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter, yey. Sorry it took so long to update, I haven't felt great recently.
> 
> If you got here, let me know what you think, do you like where it's going? Etc. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A visitor shows up at the Cobblepot mansion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another chapter!! I had the inspiration and I went with it lol

Oswald blinks a few times, is he imagining this? Is he reading too much into this? Detective James Gordon, who sleeps with any women who bats their eyes at him, who would rather run with a bullet in his side than let a criminal escape, who works overtime because justice never sleeps and crime never stops, that same detective Gordon is showing concern for him? Offering his help perhaps? What else is he supposed to think when his touch is so tender? When his eyes are so earnest? Oswald’s eyes turn down and he stares at their hands, Jim’s still on top of his. He sees Jim follow his gaze and as if waking from a trance the detective lets go, like he’s been burned by Oswald’s skin. So he did misinterpret the situation. What was he thinking. 

“Proof. That’s your guy’s motto, is it not, Jim?” He looks into Jim’s blue eyes, studies his features like he has many times before. Sees the expression lines on his forehead become more pronounced, his sharp jaw tighten, “In a city like Gotham, proof drowns at the pier.” 

He continues to stare at Jim’s features changing and he can see the cogs moving, the struggle, and the conflict going on in his mind. Oswald knows he is right, and while his method are not conventional they certainly bring results. 

“It’s not the way, Oswald,” the detective says after a few moments of internal debating. 

“You aren’t even sure of what I do, Jim. What are my crimes? What is it that I shouldn’t do according to you?” The gangster needed to know how much intel the detective was able to gather on him. 

“All I know is that tragic things happen to bad people, and often more than not, one of the last places they’ve visited is the Iceberg Lounge.”

“Bad people is your keyword there, Jim,” he says smug.

The space between Jim’s brows narrows and he stands up, smashing his mug against the floor, “You can’t take justice into your hands! You can’t play god, Oswald!” 

Oswald frowns.

Someone clears their throat by the door and for a second Oswald thinks its Jim’s escort, here to take him to his room for raising his voice at their boss. But when he looks over, he finds a tall figure with dark hair and frames too big for that face he knows all too well. 

“Ed!” Oswald calls smiling, his face changing completely.

The tall man walks closer to the gangster and hugs him, breathing deeply against the smaller man’s hair. Letting go of each other slowly, and not stepping back.  

“Hello Ozzie, I thought I’d stop by and see how you and the kids were doing. I haven’t seen you at the museum in a while.” 

“Oh, I suppose not. Thank you for coming, it’s so good to see you, old friend. The kids and I have been busy attending our guest,” he says stepping back and pointing to Jim with his arm, “Ed, have you meet Detective James Gordon?”

“I don’t believe I have, but I’ve heard a lot about you, detective. You intend to clean Gotham, is that right?”

Jim forces a smile and extends his hand to properly greet the guy, “Yes, that’s the plan, pleased to meet you, Ed?” he asks shaking his hand.

“Yes,” Oswald says looking at the taller man with admiration in his eyes. “Ed works at the Gotham Natural History Museum. I’m afraid all three of us are guilty of taking Ed’s time more often than not,” he says sheepish. 

“Nonsense, you know I love when you visit.” 

Oswald and Ed stare at each other’s smiling faces for a second too long and it’s Jim’s turn to clear his throat.

“Would you like something to drink, Ed?” Jim asks as he walks in between them to the cellaret. 

Oswald thought that was a bit rude, he could’ve just gone around them and then he realises, maybe Jim was- no, he couldn’t be. Why would he be? He dismisses the thought thinking maybe his coffee had a little too much spike. 

“Oh, no, I don’t drink. But perhaps some tea? I was hoping to talk to you alone, Oswald.” he says hopeful. 

“Of course! Jim you were about to go to bed, right?” the gangster fuzzes. 

“No. I had a lot more to say actually,” Jim replies doing nothing to hide his annoyance.

Oswald turns to Jim, surprised, but mostly irritated by his lack of sensitivity. “We can continue this conversation tomorrow, Jim. You’re welcome to stay here if you so wish,” he says and it’s final, his goodnight to Jim. Then he turns to Ed, and smiling genuinely, “In any case, Ed, why don’t you accompany me to my study?”

“Goodnight, Mr. Gordon,” Ed says with a winning smile as he follows Oswald. 

-

 

The next morning is different than any morning Jim’s had at the Cobblepot mansion. He isn’t the main attraction, for starters. The kids are ecstatic to see Ed sitting on the breakfast table, Ivy merely says ‘g’morning’ to him, and Martin simply waves his hand at him. They don’t even bother to look at him! They rush past him to greet their new guest with warm hugs. Those are  _ his _ hugs! He unconsciously clenches his jaw and fist as he stares at the scene with narrowed eyes. 

He walks to Oswald who is standing in front of the stove. Standing close enough to him that a whisper will be unheard by the others, “Just what is the nature of your relationship with that man?” 

Oswald turns to him with one raised eyebrow, clearly confused by the question, “He’s a friend? You don’t remember him?” he smiles amused now, “Did you drink too much last night?” 

“No, I remember him, I mean-”

“... have to ask Oswald first,” Ed finishes his statement.

“Excuse me?” the gangster directs his attention away from Jim. The detective grunts. 

“We were wondering if Ed can stay to play with us this evening. Dad, please? It’s been  _ so _ long since he’s stayed over, please,” Ivy begs. 

‘Can he stay over?’ Martin writes on his notepad alongside the drawing of a bed. 

Oswald chuckles nervous, “That’s not up to me to decide, we certainly have enough spare rooms, and Jim was planning on going back home today,” he says thoughtful. 

The detective snaps his head toward Oswald, “What?” Ivy and Jim ask in unison.

“Jim needs to go back to work, catch all the bad guys, make the city proud,” Oswald explains to Ivy.

“Oswald… I thought I wasn’t leaving until…” he stops himself. What is he saying? He should just take this chance and leave. 

“You can’t leave! You promised we would work on the Gillyflowers at the garden tomorrow!” 

Jim stares at Ivy with an open mouth for a second, like he’s about to say something before he turns to Oswald, “I promised,” he says simply. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Gotham Natural History Museum](http://dc.wikia.com/wiki/Gotham_Natural_History_Museum)  
>  an actual place in Gotham with a botanical garden, a hall of exotic birds, a zoo, amongs others.
> 
> Thoughts on Oswald and Ed being exes???? Yey or ney? Let me know in the comments >:)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get a little complicated between Jim and Oswald.

 

The evening finds Jim Gordon slamming Oswald against the wall of the study. His face inches away from the other’s face. “What the fuck are you playing at, Cobblepot?” he barks.

Oswald lets out a curt chuckle, “May I remind you of where you stand, detective?” he warns pressing a switchblade to Jim’s side with  just  enough pressure.

“That’s more like it,” he sneers and lets go, pushing Oswald away from him roughly. “What’s the catch? Why are you letting me go?”

Oswald puts the blade away with a swift movement “You do Gotham good. There’s no catch. Do reconsider continuing your investigation on me. The Iceberg Lounge is a legit business, don’t waste your time and resources.”

Oswald walks to the door of the studio, ready to go back to Ed and the kids who are playing in the living room. Before Jim stops him with a hand to his forearm. “Will I be able to come back? Visit the kids?” he asks the carpet.

Oswald smiles, that genuine smile Jim envies when bestowed on others, “Of course, Jim. You'll always be welcome here.

There is silence between them, Jim doesn’t let go of Oswald, so the gangster waits for him to say something. He waits until the silence starts to become somewhat awkward. Finally, he starts to walk away and Jim’s hand falls to his side.

“Last night…” the detective’s words make Oswald stop in his place. “When you and Ed left… what were you, uh, what does he... want? Is he one of your associates?” he asks with a hint of desperation in his questions. He needs to know who Ed is. For some reason him being a dirty associate pisses him off less than if he was… well, close to Oswald. They seem to share a bond, it’s in the way they talk to each other, the familiarity of it all ticks Jim to no end.

“He’s  just  a friend, Jim,” he reassures and continues on his way.

-

 

Back at the living room, the kids are showing Ed new things they’ve learned. Ivy and Martin hold different volumes of a visual encyclopedia. Both books already full of markers of the kids’ favorites subjects.

“Very interesting indeed. The museum is hosting an orchid show, that was one of the reasons I came over, to invite you guys,” Ed says.

“Oh thank you, thank you, thank you, Ed! You’re the best!” the girl says as she wraps her arms around the man’s neck.

‘What about dinosaur exhibits?’ Martin holds up his notepad.

“That will be next month. I can’t say anything for sure, but  I think  we’re getting new bones in from another museum,” he explains excited.

Martin gets excited by the possibility.

“Hey kids, how long has Jim stayed here?”

The boy shrugs and the girl tries to think back, “Almost two weeks now,  I think ,” she shrugs.

“Is he, are your father and him… are they…” Ed trails off thinking of how to ask this. Does he want to ask? They’re kids they wouldn’t-

“ I think  Jim wanted to put daddy in jail or something. But daddy made him fall in love with him via pancakes,” Ivy provides, helpful girl that she is.

“What?”

‘One night, I came downstairs to get water, and I saw dad and Jim laughing sitting at the couch,  really  close to each other. Dad is rarely that happy with anyone other than us,’ Martin shows Ed.

“I see,” Ed smiles.

-

 

The next morning they all meet for breakfast. Jim walks into the most tasteless scene he’s ever been witness to in his life.  Perhaps  that’s an exaggeration being he's a homicide detective for fuck's sake. But it’s so gross how sweet and domestic it all looks. The kids sit at the table drinking orange juice. Oswald stands by the stove and Ed is squeezing oranges. His eyes narrow as he sits across from the kids, his eyes fixed on Oswald and Ed. His face conveys nothing but pure displeasure.

‘Do you feel sick?’ Martin asks.

Jim becomes aware of how much pain he’s in from clenching his teeth and narrowing his eyebrows so hard. He relaxes his features and takes a deep breath. Not wanting to bring any attention to himself, he grabs the boy’s pen and writes his answer below the question.

‘Headache, I’ll be okay. Thanks for asking.’ He smiles at him and turns back to look at Oswald.

“What’s for breakfast today?” he asks.

“Scrambled eggs, and french toast,” Oswald says.

He isn’t sure why he’s annoyed by their proximity, it’s not like they’re being touchy or even affectionate. But Oswald never asked for his help when preparing breakfast. He also didn’t offer, but that’s only because he can’t cook to save his life. If Oswald had given him a job as simple as squeezing oranges he would’ve been able to manage it too.

“Here you go detective, a glass of  freshly  squeezed orange juice,” Ed says. He sets the glass down in front of Jim with a smile.

“I don’t like orange juice, thanks though,” he pushes the glass back towards Ed.

“I don’t like orange juice either,” says Ivy and she gets up to grab milk from the fridge.

Meanwhile, Jim can feel the daggers that are Oswald’s eyes directed right at him.

“Detective, orange juice is good for you, it’s got lots of vitamins,” Oswald says with a tight smile.

“I rather have kiwi or something,” Jim says.

Ivy pours milk on a glass for herself, she offers to pour some for Jim. As she pours Jim a glass, the glass tilts and falls to the ground, shattering, milk spilling everywhere.

“Ivy! Be more careful! Step aside. No!  Just , stay right there, you have no shoes on! You could get injured, you have to be more careful!” Oswald goes off.

“Oswald. Oswald, it’s fine. It was an accident, and she didn’t get hurt,” Jim says trying to calm him down. He holds a petrified Ivy by her arms and lifts her back to her seat at the table.

“You’re safe from any broken glass here,” Jim squats down in front of her and moves some hair away from her face. Ivy starts tearing up, sniffling and trying to hide her face in her hands. “It’s okay, Oswald got worried about you. Hey, no use crying over spilled milk, right?” he jokes and Ivy starts laughing while still crying. Oswald fuzzes in the background cleaning the mess. Jim presses Ivy to his chest in a warm embrace and pets her hair. “I’m gonna go help your dad clean, okay?” Ivy nods wiping her eyes with her small hands, and Jim kisses her forehead. “Once we have breakfast we can head to the greenhouse.” Ivy nods again calming down.

Ed was helping Oswald sweep the broken glass, so Jim went to get the mop.

“Oh, thank you, Jim. I'd hate to leave this mess for Olga, you know how she gets,” Oswald says grateful.

“Right, Oswald...  I think  you overreacted a little, I’d be good if you talked to Ivy,” Jim starts and he can already see Oswald fuming.

Before Oswald can go off again, Ed places a calming hand over his shoulder, “ I think  he’s right, Os. You were a little harsh with her, and like the detective said, it was  just  an accident,” Ed says in all his knowledge.

Jim almost thinks having Oswald explode on him would’ve been better. Almost. He is grateful for Ed and his calming effects on the gangster. Jim observes Oswald taking a deep breath and walking to where Ivy was sitting. Oswald sits next to her, and Jim doesn’t get to hear the rest, it’s a conversation between father and daughter. Jim and Ed continued serving breakfast, Jim following Ed’s instructions.

After that, breakfast was nice and there were no more incidents. Ivy seemed happy and had forgotten all about the accident by the time they head to the greenhouse.

Ivy had all sorts of flowers and herbs growing. Assorted tea leaves made abot a quarter of her collection. Stuff like camomile, lavender, lemongrass, mint, rose hips, jasmine, and many more. Many of which were hanging upside down in the four seasons patio in little bundles. Today they were transplanting many of Ivy’s successful germinated seeds.

He never thought he’d come to enjoy something as simple and fleeting as gardening. Fleeting for him, it seemed like Ivy could grow anything year-round. When he was in high school, he’d gotten a carnivore plant because he thought they were cool. But it died after he’d forgotten to water it for three weeks. It wasn’t his fault, he thought they only needed insects to survive, no one said anything about water!

He sighs at the memory, shaking his head and concentrating on his current task. Then images of Ed and Oswald smiling at each other come back to him and he’s  unconsciously  frowning again. Oswald said Ed was only a friend, and Jim shouldn’t care! Tomorrow he would be gone, and Oswald would continue with his life without Jim. And if that involved boning a tall nerd, that wasn’t Jim’s problem.

He had bigger issues to take care of, like bringing the gangster to justice. Sure,  maybe  his business was legit, but then why would he keep him here against his will? Why would he threaten him? He’s still guilty of taking him hostage. Though he wasn’t even really a hostage, he hasn’t seen anyone from security since... the second day  really  , when he got moved to an actual room. He could’ve  probably  walked out and gone home if he had wanted to. But he isn’t here against his will anymore.

Whatever. It’s not like he’ll miss the place. Not Olga’s cooking, or even Oswald’s. Because hotdogs from the hotdog stand by the station were always delicious. So were the danishes Harvey brought from who knows where. And the frozen meals-for-one he got at the store? Microwaved to perfection, every single time. He wouldn’t miss the kids. When did he become such a softy anyway? This isn’t the first time he’s thought about having kids. But in his profession… he couldn’t risk having a family only to put them in danger.

But somehow Oswald managed.  Oswald was a successful gangster and business owner, who managed to balance work and family  just  fine  . Why couldn’t he?  Maybe  it was because Oswald didn’t raise the kids from a young age, having kids and having a baby is different. Oswald isn’t  really  a father. He takes one look at Ivy and remembers how happy the kids with Oswald. He beats himself up for even thinking such cruel thoughts. What the fuck is he thinking?

Perhaps  he’s  just  envious. Why can’t he have what Oswald has? Why can’t he be as happy as him?

Once they’re done, they’re both sweating with aprons and gloves full of dirt. Jim dries the sweat on his forehead with his forearm.

“Thank you, Jim! This would’ve taken me so much longer if you hadn’t helped,” Ivy says.

“Don’t Oswald and Martin ever help you?”

“Martin doesn’t like gardening. Oswald helps sometimes, when he’s feeling good. It’s  really  hard on his knees though. He doesn’t always feel up to it though,” Ivy shrugs. “He’s been in a better mood since you’ve been here. It’s too bad you’re leaving, but you’ll come back right?”

“I… I don’t- what do you mean he’d been in a better mood?”

“Ever since his mom passed away he has been down a lot. He even tried to send us away, but we refused to leave him. We only knew Gertrude for a few months, but she was a nice person. He treated us like she’d known us forever. Her food was delicious too! Oswald didn’t tell us how she died, but he goes to visit her grave every month.”

“How did his behavior change? Was he aggressive in any way?”

“What? No! He  just \- We would rarely see him, he spent the days in his room. When he did come out he always smelled like antiseptic and he lost a lot of weight. But he’s better now, when Ed found out he came and helped dad get better. He’s a good friend, he cares about dad a lot.”

Jim tries to school his features. Trying to show no emotion, but he was so worried for Oswald now.  Just  what the hell is going on in his mind? Oswald is one of the few Jim had trouble reading.

He takes off his apron and gloves. “I’m going to shower. Thanks for letting me help you, it was nice.”

“Thank for helping!”

-

 

Thoughts keep coming to him as he showers. Why would Oswald smell like antiseptic? Was he hurting people to help with his mood? Was he hurting himself? Oswald seemed like the kind of person to love themselves too much to the latter. But  maybe … he tries to think back to every interaction they’ve had. He’s never seen Oswald with his sleeves rolled up or in anything other than trousers. Jesus Christ, how could he miss something like this?

He dries up and gets changed. He shouldn’t concern himself with Oswald. He was a grown man and he could take care of himself. But he couldn’t shake the thought of him hurting himself out of his head. Jim understands the feeling. He’s been there before.  Maybe  not in the same way Oswald has. His self destruction usually involved alcohol and bar fights. But he gets it and  maybe  he can help.

As he approaches Oswald’s office, he hears the voices of Ed and Oswald.

“Please, Ed.  Just  stay one more night. Jim is leaving, we’ll have privacy and I don’t have to work tomorrow… I need you."

The desperation in Oswald’s voice turns Jim’s mood sour. So much for only being friends. But then again, what was he expecting would happen? What did he plan to do? Ask Oswald on a date?

“Oswald, you and I both know that’s not what you want,” Ed says. And it’s sweet and understanding. And Jim wants to fucking punch him in his stupid,  perfectly  symmetrical face.

“How would you know what I want?! Of course it’s not what I want! I never said want! I  just -”

Jim knocks on the door and Oswald stops. There’s silence on the other side of the door. Jim considers opening the door, but as soon as his hand reaches the handle, the door opens.

“Good evening, Jim. I was  just  on my way out. Hope to see you around,” Ed smiles and then he’s walking past him.

Jim fixes his eyes on Oswald as he walks closer. Oswald is  clearly  distressed even if he tries to hide it, he hasn’t meet Jim’s eyes as he stares at his desk.

“Everything, okay?”

“Yes, detective, everything’s okay. Have you packed your things? I’m sure you’re dying to go back to work,” the bitterness was obvious in his voice.

“I, yes, I do miss work. But I will miss this too,” he says honest. Oswald looks up then. “Oswald, what happened after your mother died?”

They’ve talked about many things before, Jim guesses this isn’t that much different. Except he’s wrong, and he knows as soon as the words leave his mouth. Oswald’s mood aggravates, his jaw clenches and he takes a deep breath.

“What happened after my mother’s passing is none of your concern, detective.”

“I want to know you’re going to be safe after I leave.”

Oswald scoffs. “What? Of course I’m going to be safe. I’ve been fine my entire life. What makes you think your absence is going to change that? I’ve known you for less than two weeks, detective. I could care less whether you got hit by a bus tomorrow, that’s how little I care.”

Jim winces at the imagery. He tries not to let Oswald’s words affect him. He knows, Oswald is only being defensive.

“Show me your arms.”

Oswald looks at him confused and indignant. He rolls his eyes and takes his suit jacket off. Then he rolls his sleeves up and shows Jim.

They’re unmarked. Pale, translucent skin, Jim can see almost every vein.

Jim swallows, “Sorry, I-"

“What? You thought I was hurting myself? What a joke,” Oswald huffs and he’s rolling his sleeves back down, annoyed. “Goodbye, Jim.”

Oswald walks past him and then Jim is alone in the office. He lets his head hang and sighs. He leaves that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Develpment happens... sorry this took so long to update. I wasn't sure where I wanted to take this, but I now know. Hopefully the next chapter will be up soon! Things are about to change... We'll see what Jim missed while he was away from work. 
> 
> Let me know if you find any of this boring or if you found yourself skipping certain paragraphs because I was struggling to take stuff out that didn't move the story along or helped in any way... as always thanks for reading!


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